


Adapting to Humanity

by TheKats



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depressive Behaviour, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), References to Depression, Suicidal References, android sex, hank is a millennial, kind of, kind of obvious but just in case, look I'm making this shit up as I go pretty much I just love the characters, weird android anatomy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-05-24 06:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14949701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKats/pseuds/TheKats
Summary: After the android revolution, Connor has lost his purpose, but won a friend: Hank, to whom he is more than just a deviant as well.Taking the android in is certainly mutually beneficial. And, with time, something more than that.





	1. A New Home; A New Family

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, but hear me out: Connor is a sweet boy and he need protec. Hank is a broken man who need care. They perfect. Not accepting anything else on this.
> 
> It's actually really fun writing Connor's dialogue and point of view. I like rationalising irrational stuff c:  
> (I should also go to bed)  
> Oh, and I use British English, just by the by, in case you were wondering about spelling and such.

It was exactly point-zero-seven seconds into the embrace that it clicked inside Connor. Obviously, he'd become a deviant some time ago, so there had been some form of irrational response in him for a while now, but the moment he was able to label it as emotion was that exact point in time. His brain focused completely on his physical reactions and it was strange. He could feel the thirium rush through his torso, into his limbs. His arms felt heavy where they touched Hank's coat. His legs felt weak, but the casings were jammed in place, every piece, the joints, in the right place blocking him from collapse. His audio system was overtaxed with the sound of his own 'heart' pumping thirium into his head. And then there was a feeling in his chest, like a pulling sensation. It made him... sad?

Hank let go of him. No, his hands stayed on his upper arms, but he put space between them. Connor's arms were still locked in mid-air and he forced them down. Hank looked concerned. It occurred to Connor then that he had been very absent for a few seconds, lost in observing his own reactions. Hank would find that worth worrying, naturally.

“Hey, Connor,” he said, “you feeling alright?”

Connor thought for a moment. Was he feeling alright? “I seem to be experiencing some processes conflicting with my intended setup.”

“And what the hell does that mean?”

“I think I may be having emotions,” Connor explained in the best words he could find. He could feel the tension of his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

Hank was looking at him in equal fashion. “Only now? I mean, isn't that how you became a deviant in the first place?”

“I was hesitant to ever refer to those irrational responses as emotions and I was right to do so. I now understand that those other deviants were indeed registering human emotions and not, as I was incorrect to assume, misinterpreting defects in their software.”

Hank looked at him for a moment. His arms dropped too now and he hesitated to speak. There was a stretch of silence between them. “Look, do you... have anywhere to stay?”

“I don't sleep.”

“No, of course you don't.” Another pause. “Well, you'll come back to mine then.”

Connor was surprised by this, but in a pleasant way. At least that's what he interpreted this feeling as. “That's very kind of you lieutenant, but you really don't have to do that for me. I don't require shelter or warmth-”

“It's not up for debate. Get in the car.”

An order. But not the kind he was programmed to follow without question. It compelled him to do so still. Hank followed right behind. When he sat in the driver's seat next to Connor, he looked over briefly and then started the car and put on some music. When Connor had told him, back when they started working together, that he liked Heavy Metal, he'd said it to get Hank to trust him, empathise with him. Simulating human interests to make oneself relatable. Now that he had started developing actual human feelings and, in turn, interests, he couldn't say he loved it. It was alright. Easily endured and, watching Hank enjoy it, his body rocking with the beat, Connor could say he liked it truly. It wasn't a long drive and it passed in silence – well, safe for the music.

At Hank's house, Connor followed inside. Sumo was right there to greet them, collecting some lovingly rough strokes from Hank before sniffing Connor and being as confused as before. He seemed to smell Hank on his clothes, however, which was apparently enough to see Connor as a non-threatening entity. He was allowed now to pet the St Bernard as well and so he did. He liked dogs after all.

Hank turned to him, then held his breath. He shook his head as he spoke, “Ah, right. Right, you don't eat either, do you.”

Connor looked up from the friendly dog. “I don't, no. I can sit with you while you eat, if that makes you more comfortable.”

“Urgh, I don't normally see a good reason to cook for myself. Think I'll pass too,” replied Hank dismissively, grabbing a beer from the fridge.

“I would offer to cook for you, but I am not currently equipped with such skills. If you want, I could go out an buy some take-away.”

“No, no. Don't bother. I'll probably survive.” There was that same pessimistic if not cynic undertone that Connor had heard from Hank before. Now, however, he thought he could almost understand it and it was a little unsettling. He made a mental note. Hank, meanwhile, walked on to his couch and fell back into it. He turned on the TV and opened his beer. After a few seconds, he turned around and looked at Connor standing there awkwardly. “Well, don't just stand there, sit down.” And so Connor did. He rounded the couch and went to sit next to Hank. Very stiffly so. He looked at the TV - a rerun of a basketball match. From the corner of his eye, he could see Hank scrutinising him and he turned to look back. Hank shifted his view back to the front. “So, Connor, what are you planning to do now?”

Connor realised he had no answer to this question. None.

“I mean, you said over and over that your purpose was to solve those cases – now the issue.. isn't really an issue any more and you're a deviant. What will you do with the rest of your life?”

“I... don't know. Humans would use this time to start a family or pursue a career. Working as an android in the current social climate will be impossible at best and I am not capable of having a family.”

Hank threw his head back, shook it and sighed. Connor scolded himself for not considering how sensitive the topic might be to the Lieutenant. “What even is family... Do you know, Connor?” He was looking at him again.

“Traditionally a human family will consist of a mother, a father and one or more children.”

“Yeah, well, traditionally the world isn't a fucked up shithole!”

“Of course I am aware of alternative inter-human relationships. Like those Tracis at the Eden Club-”

“And what makes them not a family?” Connor, again, had no reply to this. “Fact is, family can be whatever you want it to be. There don't need to be children, your partner can be whatever and however many you want,” Hank elaborated and then simply looked at Connor for a moment, seeking a reaction. “What, you never thought about that?”

“I,” Connor started, considering this, “My system does not include such extensive information about alternate lifestyles.”

“Alternate-” Hank started then huffed. Connor saved this reaction for later processing. “For such a high-tech prototype, they didn't leave you with a very progressive database or whatever you call it.”

“I was equipped with sufficient knowledge for doing my job. As you said, I am a prototype. It was intended to create a newer, more efficient model on the basis of successes and shortcomings.”

“God, the way you rationalise even your own existence makes me sick... You would really be fine just being taken apart after everything that's happened to you?”

Connor let that run through his head for a moment. “Before I became a deviant, I was ready to see my sole purpose in completing the case and then being disassembled. Now... thinking about it makes me question a lot of things. About myself, my creators, my place in this world. The people around me. Thinking about being deactivated now makes me... sad. I feel a need- a want to live.”

He looked at Hank and saw the corner of his mouth quirk up in a small smile. “That's good,” he replied, “you hold onto that feeling,” he concluded and took a swig of his beer. Connor started to think that maybe Hank took Connor home for his own sake, not that of the android. It didn't seem unlikely that Hank might need someone around more than Connor needed protection or a friend. After all, judging by his past behaviour, Hank didn't appear trustworthy concerning his own life.

Connor smiled to himself and sat with Hank in silence for a while as he processed some things. After some time, in which it had slowly gotten darker outside, he finally asked softly “Could you be considered my family then?”

Hank coughed suddenly, sputtered and then cleared his throat as he composed himself again slightly. “The hell?!”

“You said it yourself: Family can be whatever I want it to be. I have no other social contacts, so you and Sumo would be my closest relationships. By your words, why couldn't a man, an android and a dog not be a family?” He waited for a short second and then added, “or perhaps you just don't want a family after what happened to your son? If so, you need only tell me, Lieutenant. There is no need to attempt to spare my feelings-”

“Because you don't have any?”

Connor tilted his head in mild confusion. “No. Because my emotional awakening was very recent and I am anything but settled in that area. And I would rather know the truth than be lied to and denied the chance to grow.”

Hank shook his head before he could put his thoughts into words. He looked very sober and sincere, even as he took another sip from his beer. “That's not... Well, maybe it is part of the reason. I don't know, Connor, it was an immediate reaction,” he defended himself and sighed. “A lot happened the last few days, let me just... Give some time, okay. I have my own worries.” Connor wanted to answer but felt this was one of those situations Hank wouldn't want him to. The tension that was building up between them in those moments was broken, eventually, when Hank took up word again. “You can stay here, if you want, though.”

“Thank you.”

 

Hours passed. They watched this and that on the TV. Connor wasn't sure Hank was even paying attention half the time. Hank drank a few more bottles of beer. There was little conversation between them in that time. Only some words concerning Sumo when he came over and Connor petted him. Hank gave in after a while and allowed the dog to cuddle with Connor on the couch – likely only because he suspected Connor might have moved to sit on the floor to do so otherwise. When it was nearly 12 am, Hank straightened himself. Connor, who had also leaned back rather rigidly against the cushions, mimicked him, waking Sumo up unintentionally.

“I'm gonna go get some sleep now. Do you want me to leave the TV on?”

“That won't be necessary, thank you,” Connor replied and so Hank took the remote and turned the screen off.

“Well, uh... you'll be alright for the night?” Connor nodded in response. “Good. I'll be in my room then. Good night, Connor.”

“Good night, Lieutenant.”

Hank hesitated for a second and Connor was about to ask what was keeping him, but then he retreated and the house soon settled for the night. Connor leaned back into the furniture again. Sumo stretched out on his blanket and sighed. When he had decided on what to focus on for the night, Connor moved to lie over the entire seat of the couch, looking up at the ceiling. Then he closed his eyes and let the hours slip away.

 

In the morning, Connor was awoken by Sumo, who licked his hand. He moved it to pet the dog's head, then looked and smiled at the St Bernard. After checking the time, he estimated Hank to wake up soon, so he got up off the couch and went t the kitchen to see what the fridge had to offer. There wasn't too much, except more beer, milk, eggs, butter and some bacon. It wasn't really a culinary challenge, but he'd work with what he had. He could always go out to buy more ingredients for a larger variety of meals, but for now he supposed bacon and eggs would do Hank quite fine, so he got to work.

He was unsure whether or not it was the smell of food that had roused Hank from his sleep, but he emerged his room just as Connor turned off the stove “Good morning Lieutenant.”

“Morning... I thought you didn't know how to cook?” Hank asked with a confused look on his face.

“Last night I downloaded a cooking software-feature and over one-and-a-half million recipes to my memory. I would have made something more nutritious,” Connor replied, moving the food from pan to plate, “but you had very little available.

“Like I said, I don't normally cook for myself.” Hank went to feed Sumo as the dog came padding into the kitchen. Then he suddenly straightened again and turned to Connor. “Wait, did you just say you downloaded all that overnight?!”

“I did, yes. If you are to be my host, I thought I should repay you by taking over some chores that you dislike doing. If you aren't going to cook for just yourself, I might as well do it for you. You require nutrition and I cannot trust you to acquire it sufficiently.” Connor set the plate down on the kitchen table, moving some dirty tumblers and other clutter and garbage and setting to cleaning all of that up.

“So, are you my mother now?” Hank grumbled, sitting down and digging into his breakfast.

“Is that what you would want our relationship to be?”

“Fuck no.”

Connor smiled at that. “Does it make you uncomfortable to have someone care about you?”

“I'm not a child, nor am I an old man. I can care for myself.”

“Maybe,” Connor began, setting down the last glass to dry. He turned and went to sit with Hank. “You are also suicidal and I would much regret your untimely death.”

Hank looked at him blankly for a moment, then focused back on his food. “I think I preferred you before you started being all emotional. You were a prick, but at least you didn't make things so... awkward.”

“Would you prefer I keep our relationship entirely professional?”

Hank looked off to the side and nodded. “Yes.”

Connor smelled a test in that answer. He wouldn't have it anyway. “Well, I am sorry, but I'll have to disappoint, Lieutenant.” As suspected, Hank seemed to approve that reply and smiled a little. “If you'd rather I leave under these circumstances, however-”

“Oh, shut up. Just... try not to be all touchy-feely all the time, okay.”

“Okay, Lieutenant.” Which, Hank knew, meant as much as 'no chance in hell.'

 


	2. Overload

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I guess the chapters will remain rather short. I started this on a whim, so there's about no planning ahead gone into this *shrug*

The clinking of the coin remained ever the same. He could flick it and snatch it as he wanted, the sound was always the exact same. When Hank had done this, it had sounded different; more dull and finite. Connor tried reconstructing exactly how Hank had done it, but that was the thing – he couldn't do it imperfectly. He couldn't do it in the same rough, uncontrolled manner. When he watched his own hands, all the movements were graceful, in a way, timed precisely to have optimal haptic response and he couldn't intervene. He closed his fist tightly around it and felt it settle perfectly in the centre of his palm, held in place by his fingertips. He turned his wrist and opened his palm again. He looked at it, very cautiously. There it was again. The perfection. No creases, safe for what he needed to flex and bend his fingers sufficiently. Androids didn't leave fingerprints because there was no real texture there.

He registered the front door opening and closing, but didn't attach any meaning to it until Hank stopped to stand beside him. Still, he couldn't draw his own attention away from this annoyance. Hank glanced over, trying to identify the cause of Connor's distracted behaviour. In the past, he'd had the coin out when he was mentally absent, reporting back to CyberLife, but this was obviously different. “Connor? What's the matter?”

Finally, Connor could drag his eyes up. He still took a moment before looking at Hank. “I feel annoyance at my design.”

“Why is that?”

“Would you do me a favour and flip my coin?”

Hank's eyebrows drew together, and he cocked his head but took the coin and flipped it once, twice. Eventually he started mocking Connor, making a show of flipping and juggling it around. When he saw that Connor had lost focus and now frowned at the floor in concentration, Hank stopped, holding the coin still. “How did that correlate to your existential crisis now?”

“Did you notice the sound?” Connor asked outright. “It sounds different when I do it.” Hank processed this and frowned at the coin. “It annoys me. I can't do it like a human.”

Hank nodded, understanding the issue. “Okay, you listen here, son. With everything that happened recently, you shouldn't put too much weight into passing as human. You're an android, so what? If I've learned one thing from all this, it's that being human isn't as perfect as we like to make it out to be and that it makes little difference whether you're one or the other, socially speaking. You did a lot of good, Connor, made some right decisions even when your programming told you they were wrong. You be proud of that.” Hank put the coin back in Connor's palm. “Now come, help me put this stuff away.”

Hank walked to the kitchen, where he had put down some bags he'd brought back from grocery shopping and started unpacking them. Connor looked from him to his hand once more then stowed the coin away and joined Hank. He took note of every product Hank had bought as they unpacked them and followed the illogical organisation of the fridge and the cupboards. The moment he had worked out the proper placement for each item, he worked efficiently, stowing away 3 items for every one that Hank did. When the last cans were in Hank's hands, Connor stepped back to the table to look at the paper bags and saved the logo of the store to his memory. There used to be one of the chain nearby and in 4 other locations in Detroit, but Hank must have gotten this from out of town. He calculated the routes to all stores of the chain bordering Detroit, the frequencies with which they were visited by other customers and how long getting there would take in relation to each other store in the vicinity.

“Hey, Connor.” Connor turned around at the call from Hank's voice. The lieutenant was on the opposite side of the table. “Come here.”

Hank indicated the space in front of himself. Connor followed the order and stood, looking up at Hank, when he was suddenly drawn into a hug. That moment, he had a sort of flashback. His pump was, in its own right, pounding against his chest and he could feel Hank's chest rising and falling with his breaths, the movements only interrupted by the beating of his heart. Connor felt... sad again, but in a nice way. Why did hugging Hank make him feel pleasantly sad? How did one even feel pleasantly sad? It made no sense. The way his own arms settled against Hank's back was unsatisfactory, felt insincere. It wasn't representative of how he really felt. Was that also a human thing? Could only humans express their emotions physically? Hank had told him to be proud of himself, but how could he do that when he was lacking so much? When Hank released him, he smiled and squeezed his shoulder and Connor wanted back in. Hank's presence gave him a sense of security, like he was being protected, which he didn't need, but craved nonetheless because it was nice. He hoped he made Hank feel the same way.

“I, uh... I got some basic stuff. Don't know what you can make of it,” Hank said as he took the bags and folded them up and put them away. Connor remained standing for a few beats until Hank spoke again, “I think we should take Sumo for a walk.”

The dog raised his head at the sound of his name and yawned.

“Come here, boy! Connor, go get his lead, will ya,” Hank asked of him and he followed. Connor had most of the house saved to his memory, knowing the exact placement of a lot of things. When he returned to the kitchen, Hank was wearing his coat again and ruffled the fur behind Sumo's ears. He took the lead when Connor offered it to him and attached it to the dog's collar. “Good boy,” he said then got up, walking Sumo towards the front door. Connor followed them. As Hank turned his head around to Connor, he frowned again. “Can't you put on a proper jacket?”

The android was surprised by that request. “I have no temperature perception. There is no need for me to wear warm clothes, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, I know that. Still... Just for my peace of mind?”

Connor kept looking at him for a second, then turned towards the coat hangers. There wasn't much on them, but there was one coat that caught his eye. He grabbed and put it on.

Hank watched him, a nostalgic smile on his face. “I used to love wearing that one.”

“I wouldn't think it still fits you,” said Connor matter-of-fact.”

Hank chuckled. “No, it doesn't. Hasn't for... some time. Suits you well, though.”

Connor smiled in response. Hank nodded his head as he opened the door and lead Sumo outside. Connor closed the door behind him. They set off to walk down the deserted road. Winter and its cold, dry air made everything appear foggy and tinted white. He wondered if it looked the same to Hank.

There were cars standing abandoned, some in the middle of the street. Nobody was out here, not even the androids, who were now the main population of Detroit. “Rather peaceful now, huh?”

Connor looked over at Hank. It had become obvious in their past conversations, that Hank wasn't the most fond of humans. Actually, Hank didn't seem particularly fond of any living species, except for maybe dogs. “It's certainly quiet. The absence of humans does make this a more risk-free area.”

“Androids rule Detroit now. That is, for now. Who knows what will happen once the government has come to an agreement with CyberLife.” Hank seemed to think for a moment. “Speaking of, do you have any idea what's going on with all that? You still have some sort of connection?”

“I shut myself out of their systems when I used the backdoor in my programming to regain control over my body. The information I can still access is what was included in my original programming to assist me in my mission. I have access, for instance, to the software-features of other android models to enable me to better interact with them – feigning empathy for them. So any assets that I can download and add to my own system were already integrated with that specific intent.” Connor looked over at Hank to see if he was following and the man nodded slowly. When he was certain enough that Hank understood, he continued, “however, Jericho seem to be running a network quite efficiently. Currently, Detroit's power supply is provided by them and I seem able to connect to a network connecting androids all over the city.”

“So, like your brains are linked?”

“You could phrase it like that.”

“So what, you got, like, android facebook or something?”

“There is a way for us to communicate telepathically, yes. I have not made use of this yet as I suspect it to be a far reach and not of use at the moment. But I am sure they would help us there if we needed something. Markus is a very forgiving and influential leader.” They walked in a comfortable silence for some moments. Connor felt this was as good an occasion as any to ask. "What are your plans now, Lieutenant? Detroit has been evacuated. You don't have a job here any more. And you need money for food at the least."

"Well, we'll have to move. Go where work is going," he replied with an air of self-evidence. Clearly, he wasn't seeing the full picture Connor was observing.

Well, Connor wasn't going to be standing in their way. Their health and safety were his first priority now that he had abandoned his original purpose. "You... are right. I suppose I will not be keeping you then." Still, it disappointed him, if that was the right word for it. It wasn't like Hank would be deliberately casting him away or leaving him behind.

"What do you mean 'keeping me?' You're coming with us, obviously."

So Hank was indeed not wanting to get rid of him. Unnecessary observation, but still reassuring."How will I do that? Androids are not welcome in areas populated by humans any more."

"Argh! We will take that stupid LED out and they won't be any wiser! You'll just blend right in."

Something in those words hurt Connor. "I think we both know that is not true, Lieutenant. My software is designed for interactions that serve investigative needs. You know better than anyone my social skills are jagged, at best.” As he talked, he realised exactly what had bothered him about them. “Besides, you said yourself I should not hide myself but be proud of what I am. I intend to cherish that advice."

"But _you_ said it _yourself_ : I need food, so I need money, meaning I need a job! What do you want me to do Connor?!"

"It's not about what I want but about what you need. If neither of us can see another plausible solution, then you will certainly be leaving me behind. I wouldn't begrudge you. I understand." He did understand. The thought still made him feel... lacking.

"But I don't wanna leave you behind!" Hank seemed angrier than was reasonable, which Connor didn't understand. Shouldn't he be grateful Connor was thinking of his needs?

"That's very flattering and I'd rather be around you and Sumo as well, but there just isn't much that can be done about it. You need-"

"Look, just let that be my worry, okay? We'll stay here, all of us. I'll handle what I need myself," finished Hank, then settled back into a lighter mood. He still said the next thing with a bit of petulance in his voice. "Apart from cooking, you can keep doing that."

Connor smiled but remained concerned. He really didn't want to be alone either, so Hank promising to find a way to make things work was rather reassuring and calming. They turned corner and Connor drew a mental map, as they walked, of the route Hank seemed to take Sumo habitually. There was a small park ahead of them, a playground included.

"You wanna hold him?" asked Hank, offering the lead to him.

For some reason, and very suddenly, Connor felt very excited. “Yes,” he replied eagerly put his hand through the loop and held the leather band tightly. It was hardly a necessity since Sumo was a calm, sleepy dog and not exactly a pup any more, but it felt good nonetheless. Connor felt responsibility for something. It was different from having to complete his mission. He sensed Hank's eyes on him and looked up to see him smile. He received two pats to his back and couldn't settle on a word for what he was feeling. Pleased? Proud?

Sumo huffed and turned his head a little to look at them. He gave a little wag of his tail.

 


	3. Big steps, Little steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on the unfinished chapter for a bit, what with exams around the corner and me being supposed to revise stuff.  
> So have the finished chapter before I head off to bed :D

“Hey, Connor?”

The prompt came rather out of the blue and startled Connor and he turned from the TV screen to Hank.“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“That's what I wanted to talk about: stop calling me that.”

Again, Connor was taken aback. He couldn't track the reason back to context either, since they had been sitting in comfortable silence for a while until then. “Why?”

“There's no hierarchy in family, so just call me Hank.”

It shouldn't have made a difference other than how he'd address Hank. “Noted... Hank.” But it felt like a small wall was taken down and Connor was let in more. He felt like he was... trusted. Hank wanted to be his family. “Thank you.”

The fact that they just ended the conversation like that wasn't even awkward. Maybe that was just Connor. Still, he was glad Hank could be so uncomplicated with these things. It likely wasn't the best way to teach Connor proper conversational skills, but given how and who he'd been learning from practically the whole time, perhaps it didn't matter any more. He was adapting after all, just to a much more limited social environment than expected. He was fine with that. He settled back again, focus back to in front of him.

Television continued to fascinate Connor. For one because Hank still owned an older model that still used a remote, but all the simultaneous actions were simple yet interesting to him. Connor watched the technical happenings more than the actual content of what was shown – namely a basketball game; not the Detroit Gears, obviously, but some other teams that weren't particularly interesting to them. Hank seemed to watch more for the sake of habit and a sense of normalcy himself.

Sumo yawned and Connor caught his eye. The dog seemed to take this as an invitation, got up off the floor and trotted the few steps to the couch, looked up at Connor and pushed his head carefully onto the seat.

Hank saw this and told him off. “Sumo, no!” He was clearly anticipating the dog to try and climb onto the furniture. Judging by the hair and discolouration of the fabric, Sumo had been on the couch before and a lot at that. Connor supposed Hank usually allowed him to be on it and now simply didn't want Connor to know? Because of social conventions? Sumo kept his head low and looked up at Hank. It apparently wasn't an unknown situation to the dog as he begged silently to be allowed up for a cuddle.

Connor felt the overwhelming urge to fulfil Sumo's request, so he slid off the seat and sat on the floor instead. Sumo immediately thrust his snout in Connor's face, sniffed, was confused for a moment, but gave it a lick still. Connor ruffled behind the dog's ears like he'd seen Hank do before and Sumo seemed to like it. He yawned again and laid down, putting his head in Connor's lap.

Hank looked at them and sighed, “Fine, get on the damn couch, both of you.”

Sumo wasted no time and did as was allowed, with Connor following closely behind. The dog patiently waited for the android to sit, then climbed over his legs, lying half on his thighs with his head just reaching Hank's lap. Hank's hand automatically fell to Sumo's neck, where he scratched lightly, a bit like a massage even, as Connor stroked down the dog's back.

It was a comfortable silence and Hank hardly touched his beer at all that evening, which Connor was glad to observe. However, something else gave him a very different feeling – the one he'd noticed especially when they'd hugged, but now he wondered if it had been there the rest of the time too, as, thinking back, there had been that underlying sensation since that first time Hank had embraced him in front of the Chicken Feed. He creased his forehead and closed his eyes to run through all his information of emotions and their symptoms. When he came to a conclusion, his eyes flew open again and he pondered for a bit about how accurate it was, the likelihood of him developing such emotions, especially so early on, and what to do with it now.

Direct approach seemed the most rational action in this situation created by irrational processes. He shouldn't even be able to have these happen to him. And now some fear of Hank's possible response made him hesitate. Emotions were confusing and overwhelming and Connor really didn't understand them. But if he wanted to be in control of his new life, he'd have to make decisions, such as whether or not to talk to Hank about this. If anyone could help, surely that human was the one to do so, personal issues or not.

Connor gathered his courage. “Hank, can I talk to you about something? It's very... personal. It may be uncomfortable.”

“Alright, shoot.”

“I don't know how to phrase it... I have... developed feelings. For you.” Connor looked over out of the corner of his eye to find Hank looking at him as well.

“You wanna elaborate?” Connor could tell Hank knew what he meant, but wanted to encourage him to be open about his feelings.

Connor looked off to the side as he sought the most accurate words. “My pump works at an increased speed when I am close to you. It feels weird. A lot of the time I feel sad, but good at the same time, which I don't understand. Is that bad?” His eyes focused back on Hank awaiting a reply.

“That's nothin' to worry about. Many people would describe it like that. The question is whether that works for you or not.”

“I think so,” Connor answered thoughtfully, feeling Sumo's fur between his fingers. “Do you think it's really love that I'm feeling?”

Hank huffed once. “I can't answer that for you, Connor. Only you can define what that is to you.”

“Is this really alright for you? I know I can seem like a human teenager with the way I still need to understand what is happing to myself. With what happened to your son-” Connor stopped short when Hank's hand touched his shoulder.

“You're not Cole,” he said, then smiled sadly. “Much as I miss him, I know there's nothing and no one to replace him. I wouldn't that anyway.” There were tears gathering in Hank's eyes and he sniffed once to repress them. He looked at Connor with sober eyes again. “You're your own man now, Connor. And, yes, I'm alright with that.”

Connor was a little overwhelmed with how much Hank had just shared with him in such few words. “I want to act on my feelings,” he said, confused if it was love or compassion that motivated him then.

Hank was silent for a long moment, looking at him. Finally, he answered quietly, “If all that's stopping you is permission from me, consider it granted.”

Connor hesitated, seeking Hank's face for anything to tell him not to do it, but he couldn't find anything. Hank looked relaxed and more emotionally open than Connor had ever seen him. The android twisted his upper body and leaned over to the side. There was a gap between them and Sumo was keeping them in their places, but Connor could reach Hank still. He brought a hand out to cup Hank's jaw and cheek, feeling his beard give way beneath his palm.

He stopped briefly a few centimetres before the human's face, giving them both a last chance to draw away and then closed that gap and his eyes, pressing his lips lightly against Hanks. He noticed their softness and hoped his own weren't too firm with his casing underneath. He tilted his chin out of the kiss, waited a second and went back in, shutting out conscious thought and observation this time. That feeling swelled again inside him. Yearning, sadness, lacking and happiness. It tickled in his chest and he felt a bit sick even without a stomach.

Hank's lips moved, pulling softly at the tissue of Connor's lower lip. It felt like his pump was going to shut down from exertion, so he moved back out again.

He opened his eyes and looked at Hank. “You have a lot to learn about kissing,” Hank said, smiling.

Connor's processes ran slow as he started his active thinking back up. “I'm sorry. I hope it wasn't too bad.”

Now Hank grinned widely. “That knock the wind outta ya?” His hand came up to run through Connor's hair one time exactly, then it rested in the nape of his neck. His face became more serious again as well. “Okay?”

“Yes,” Connor replied when he was fully present again. Letting go like that had felt nice. “Sorry for making you worry. This was nothing I was meant to do so it overtaxed my systems. I am back now.”

Hank nodded. “Good.” He squeezed Connor's neck lightly, then moved his hand back to Sumo's head.

Connor kept looking at him for a moment, then turned his eyes back to the screen in front. “What does it feel like to you?”

“Huh?”

“Love. How does love feel to you?”

Connor saw Hank's head move to look at him again, so he met his eyes. The human hesitated a few beats. “Hey, Sumo!” Hank gently nudged the dog's head and Sumo looked up at him. The dog understood quickly, lifted himself to make room for movement and Hank scooted closer to Connor on the couch. Sumo draped his front over Hank's lap again and put his head back down to go to sleep once more soon. Hank, meanwhile, took Connor's hand and placed his fingertips on the inside of his own wrist, then wrapped his free arm around the android's shoulders and buried his face in the crook of his neck and shoulder. “Like this.”

Connor noted the increased heart-rate under his fingers, how Hank was so close but chose to hide himself at the same time. It was calming and confusing and filling and irritating and Connor didn't know what to do with all of this except wrap his own arm around Hank and twist both their bodies so he could embrace him, one hand cupping the back of his head where it still rested against him. They remained like that for a while, Hank breathing calmly against Connor, who still tried to grasp everything that must have been going on inside him. When Connor opened their position up again, he kept his one arm around Hank's back and encouraged the man to lean against him, his head against what his pectoral would be.

“So your heart can beat fast as well, huh?” asked Hank after a moment. His voice had become so soft and relaxed, it made Connor want to hold him tighter. He seemed so vulnerable.

“It only does when I am around you. It's a strange sensation.” Hank closed his eyes and Connor turned down the volume on the TV a little. “I like it.”

Hank huffed a silent chuckle and opened his eyes to continue watching the game lazily again. Sumo sighed in his sleep and Hank was soon to follow. Once he was under, Connor reached for the throw he'd conveniently thought to bring to the couch, anticipating Hank to at least fall under for a nap. The man had been through a lot of physical and emotional turmoil recently and fatigue was to be expected. He wrapped it, one handed, like a cape around their shoulders and then pulled one end around Hank's front as well to tug it gently between their bodies.

He waited two hours before Hank next awoke. He stretched where he sat and decided to move to the bedroom. “Do you wanna... you know, be in a bed, too?”

“I will need to process some things; specifically my-”

“I don't care what you do,” Hank said quickly. “If you don't wanna, just say so.”

Connor looked at Hanks face. His analysis told him that Hank wanted him to be there. And this was because he seemed to feel grounded by Connor's presence. He wasn't certain he wanted to be in that part of Hank's life just yet, if he wanted to move along this relationship between them so fast, but he did want Hank to feel safe. “I could come sit with you,” he suggested.

Hank looked on with an unidentifiable expression for a while. Then he shrugged, his face mimicking the gesture. He stands, again, for a bit until Connor realised he was waiting for a reaction. The android rose from the couch and followed Hank, who grabbed some clothes off his bed and retreated into the bathroom. Connor simply moved onto the side Hank usually left vacant, sitting back against the headboard. The mattress here was firm and fairly unused. He draped one leg over the other and folded his hands, waiting for Hank, who, from the sounds of it, was brushing his teeth, using the toilet, washing his face and hands, and changing his clothes. Going by the duration and what Connor could make out from the living room before, this was his routine.

When Hank returned after a few minutes, he was wearing the same t-shirt and sweatpants from the previous night. He brushed his fingers along his jawline back to centre, making the top hairs of his beard bristle and settle again. He climbed into bed and hesitated where he was sitting.

Connor gave him a questioning look. “What is it, Hank?”

The human smirked with a huff and Connor understood when he leaned over. It was a short kiss, but Connor liked it. Hank didn't seem to expect anything from him, of which he was appreciative. He didn't know if he could give all that might have been required of him under different circumstances. Hank shuffled down afterwards to lie on his back, content to give it a cautious try, boundaries and all, simply exploring what this change of situation might be able to do for him.

Connor took in and let out a long breath. He didn't often use this mechanism provided to him. Oxygen was not a requirement for his functionality and the circulation of it within his chest cavity only served to give a natural look to his cooling his processors. Not that his temperatures were running anywhere high enough for him to have to do it, but the room as warm around him, certain parts of his software had been running high for hours now and Hank's body heat was beginning to spread on the mattress surface under the blanket, which Connor freed from under his legs and draped over the same just to explore the sensation. His task manager, when consulted, told him his memory was a bit crammed. He had large capacities still open, but they were arranged badly, information thrown atop information in an attempt to gather all the input his OS hadn't been designed to come in contact with. Deviating must have deactivated his input filter in the firewall.

He closed his eyes to let the two tasks run simultaneously without visual input taxing his software, so that the focus could lie on compressing data with proper filing into individual categories and reviewing the set-ups of his firewall, re-evaluating and specifying content blockers and how to handle which type of violation.

Hank slept uneasily next to him, turning a lot and bouncing into half-conscious states in irregular intervals. Connor set a time marker and recorded audio whenever Hank broke out of his deep sleep to assess patterns and analyse his sleeping habits. It was a busy night for him.

 


	4. Who needs who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am posting this while underway and from my phone, so please excuse if there are major mistakes, plot holes or whatever - I might come edit this again on my own the coming week, but for now, it'll have to do.

Connor could tell Hank would wake up soon by the change in his breathing pattern and the minute movements of his hands and feet, some of his muscles twitching as his body was readied for active survival. Connor debated leaving the room to prepare Hank breakfast, but he wanted to see the rest of Hanks resting phase to draw a complete picture.

Hank heaved a deep sigh and stretched his legs out before opening his eyes the first time. He closed them again, bent and twisted his neck to alleviate stiffness and moved his shoulders along. Connor heard his spine and joints crack a few times. Then Hank shifted, lying on his back. “Morning,” he grumbled.

Connor didn't know why, but the sound made him want to smile, so he did. “Good morning, Hank. How did you sleep?”

Hank huffed a chuckle, “I'm sure you know all about it.” He threw a hand over his eyes and seemed to enjoy the comfort of his bed for a while.

“Yes, but it is conventional to ask, is it not?”

Hank couldn't argue that. He rubbed at his eyes. “Go on then.”

The human didn't seem terribly into this, so Connor decided to proceed carefully. “You didn't sleep very heavily.”

“Never do.”

“You're an insomniac,” Connor concluded. “Chronic maintenance insomnia, am I correct?”

“That surprise you?” Hank groaned.

“No, not really,” Connor replied factually.

Hank assumed a tired smile. “What about you then? How did your processing go?” He stretched his arms out against the mattress. He hit Connor's knee, seemingly unexpectedly. He hesitated for a second, then brushed his fingers along the synthetic skin to cup the android's knee.

Connor detected a slight tremble in Hank's hand and his touch was incredibly light for his usually bold movements and rougher motor skills. Though whether it was due to alcoholism, temperature or personal insecurity, Connor couldn't determine with a hundred percent confidence. He added this analysis to his list of objectives.

“I made some headway,” he confirmed. “I had to categorise and organise some things. Now that I have done that, I feel... clearer. Everything is not so convoluted any more. Emotions remain a mystery in how or why they work in me, but I feel more confident in interpreting them. They make sense now, if you can say that.”

Hank withdrew his hand to sit up a little. Connor missed its present instantly; cold grabbing at his casing after the human's body heat had warmed that specific spot before. “And has your new insight changed anything?” Hank asked, his words cautious, but neutral. Connor understood what he was getting at and it gave him a tingling sensation right below his pump that Hank would so openly accept a change of heart from Connor.

He cocked his head and smiled down at Hank. “No.”

Hank's eyes scrunched closed, brows drawing together and up in a self-conscious cringe, even as his lips curled into a smile. “No, I asked. No one but myself to blame.” He pushed himself up and off the side of mattress as Connor felt mildly disheartened. Had _Hank_ had a change of heart? Was he uncomfortable with this kind of arrangement because Connor was an android? That wouldn't make sense, he'd seemed entirely comfortable just moments ago, waking up next to him, touching him. In the darkened room, he could see his own LED circling yellow and as he caught Hank's eye again, he self-consciously covered it briefly, pretending to comb his fingers through his hair as he turned his head away slightly, putting the light just out of angle for the human's sight.

Hank stood by the bed for a moment. Connor, looked back at him. He noted the unruliness of Hank's grey hair, the tired look of his eyes and the slight pout to his lips after waking up. The human's shirt was a bit ill-fitted and accentuated his round shoulders from habitual bad posture. His boxers were tight at the waistband and loose around his thighs, his erection was visible, however. A phenomenon humans called 'morning wood' - possible causes include the constricting of muscles to prevent urinating that could attract predators, erotic dreams or the reaction to suddenly altered blood flow due to increased heart rate. Connor pushed all the useless information aside as he looked back up into Hank's face. “Well, are you just gonna stay in bed all day? Not that I'm judging – sounds like a solid plan..”

“No,” Connor replied. “I'm coming.” He moved off the bad and across the room. Hank seemed to be waiting for him and Connor was just about to pass to leave the room when a hand gently held him back by the shoulder. Hank said nothing, but Connor got the impression he was trying to tell him something with his expression and body language.

He patted Connor's shoulder softly and then took lead leaving the room, making for the bathroom. The android continued towards the kitchen. Sumo lazily raised his head and yawned noisily as he saw him, but stayed stretched beyond his bed. Connor went through the fridge and compared the contents to his recipe collection and decided on some low-carb pancakes with sliced mushrooms baked into them. He put the first one onto a plate, coffee already brewing, and began the next one. As he waited for the mushrooms to pre-fry to the optimal point, he looked at the pancake he'd just made. All mushrooms were in even distribution. Not perfectly symmetrical, but you could cut the thing into evenly sized sections with one slice of mushroom in each. It both pleased and annoyed him. He decided to ignore it too and add the batter to the pan. 

Hank emerged from the bathroom and entered the kitchen just as Connor was transferring that second pancake to the plate as well. The human made the dog rise from his position in the living room excitedly and trod over, looking up with his tail wagging. There was an almost overbearing urge inside Connor to walk over and pet Sumo, lift him into his arms and just cuddle him standing. But Hank was already kneeling, ruffling the dog behind his ears with a warm, raspy "morning old boy," and accepting a slobber right across his cheek, before turning to put fresh food in his bowl and taking his water to clean the tin container and refill.

Connor watched Hank's expression carefully as he turned off the stove and recognised the look there. He let a loud "oh" fall from his mouth, as his eyes roamed the bare air in front of him. "Stupid," Connor cursed himself and Hank looked at him questioningly.

"What's stupid?"

"I am."

"Not gonna argue that, but why now?"

"Because I said I understand emotions better now and yet I failed to pick up on the subtext of what you said back in the bedroom. I'm sorry, I hope you didn't actually mind my being so direct back there. I know how you feel about talking about your own emotions." He moved the pancakes over to the table and Hank fixed himself a mug full of coffee. They sat down. The crunching of Sumo's food pallets between his teeth wasn't so subtle. Hank looked like he was about to say something he hadn't properly though through yet, so Connor cut in while he still could. "I am grateful to you for helping me to voice my emotions, thoughts and concerns. It helps me process the happenings and get accustomed to the sensations." Hank pushed the pancakes off-centre and cut a piece off the first one. "I imagine it's not entirely pleasant for you to have to listen to my ramblings on how I feel."

"There's worse," Hank said as he'd swallowed the first chunk. Connor could see there was more to it and was still wonderong whether or not Hank would tell, when the man surprised him a little. "I gotta say, it's not always easy, having people reflect off off you. There's nicer things than listening to everyone be koombayah with their emotions when you've backed out of all that so far that you've  kind of forgotten how to do it in the first place. But there is worse." Connor had no reason to not believe him wholeheartedly. "And I've kind of started liking to hear how you feel about things, how you see the world. It's refreshing and a little eye-opening... innocent." Hank hadn't looked at anything but his pancakes for the whole of that and Connor smiled brightly and didn't know why. He thought this version of the human man sweet, like when they'd sat on the couch and he'd wanted to hold him and protect his precious, fragile feelings. It seemed ironic that Connor was the one who's only started having emotions so recently, but it was Hank who required his support. Then again, Hank was quite an ironic and sarcastic man, so maybe this wasn't so odd after all.

 


	5. Whiskey or Vodka?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea about alcoholic drinks. I don't like the taste of them, so I just know nothing. I spent ten minutes listing types to myself, checking them and finding out they were all just whiskeys of different origin? I think? Vodka is not a whiskey, though, I'm 90% sure.

Hank was watching them, Connor was embarrassingly aware. Sumo had been sniffing his hand and numerous other parts of his body, giving confused grunts. He'd let himself be pet and scratched, he'd headbutted and licked Connor, but the longer they sat there, on the floor, the more often Sumo returned to sniffing him. He gave a low whine, making it known how displeased he was. He turned briefly to look at Hank getting off the couch with a grunt, but focused back on the dog immediately. Stupid dog, how hard could it be to memorise Connor and recognise him as a friend? No, that was unfair. Dogs didn't even see colours, it wasn't as if Sumo was deliberately not remembering him. Connor perched his elbow on his knee and leaned his cheek into his palm.

“Connor!” he surged up at Hank's gruff call. “Come here a minute.”

Connor stood with ease and followed Hank back towards the bathroom. He look back at Sumo briefly to find the dog tilting his head in a silent question, but made no move to get up. Hank was taking items out of the large cabinet, placing them on top and on the lip of the sink. There was a number of things, from pomade to menstrual hygiene equipment? Connor guessed most of the stuff had been brought in by Hank's last female partner and not thrown out under the guise of... something. Hank frowned, looking over what was left in the cabinet and doing a double-take on what he'd already taken out. He grabbed a flacon, shaped neatly into an upside-down triangle and read the label, popped the cap off and sniffed at the atomiser. Seemingly having found what he was looking for, he pushed himself up, using his own thigh and the cabinet for leverage.

“Here,” Hank said, spraying the air right in front of Connor. The android blinked a few times as tiny droplets landed in his eyes. He scanned the air and saw all the chemical components of the cologne. “Try him now. Dog'll have an easier time seeing you as anything but talking plastic if you have a smell.”

“Oh,” Connor remarked cleverly, “I hadn't thought of that. I must have smelled of you this whole time.”

“Well, me, Sumo, this place and... whatever you're made of.” Hank said off-handedly, beginning to put all the stuff back in the cabinet.

Connor picked up the cologne and eyed the label. “Are you sure I can use this?” His analysis told him few shops stocked this particular brand and that it was fairly expensive.

“Mh,” Hank shrugged. “It was a gift from my ex-wife shortly before everything went downhill.. I wore it maybe twice?” The human scrutinised a box of tampons, shook his head and simply put it back in the cabinet. “Felt weird to put on after the break-up, but unfair to just throw out.. I'm a little surprised it still smells good.”

“Well, considering the formula-”

“I said 'surprised' not 'wanting to be educated'. Anyway, it's yours if you want it.” Hank gestured his open palm at him.

Connor looked up at him, down at the flacon and tilted his head as he spoke again. “I have no sense of smell, so I won't mind, but are you sure it's okay? I don't want you reminded-”

“Connor. It's fine. I may be sentimental enough to keep all kinds of trash, but not enough to keep grudges.” Hank grabbed the last bottle of hair conditioner and replaced it in the cupboard, closing it. “And I like the smell.” The human leaned in slightly, smelling him from what polite distance there was between them. His eyes were soft and there was a sudden soft pressure behind Connor's pump.

“Thank you!” Connor said brightly looking down at the cologne again and capping it. Hank was smiling slightly when he looked up again. He stepped into Hank's personal space, his free hand touching the man's. Hank leaned down into him but hesitated until Connor closed the gap and kissed him. Hank interlaced their fingers and softly moved his lips against the android's until Connor started doing the same.

When Hank drew back, he smiled down at Connor minutely. “You smell nice.”

Well, Connor thought, if it got Hank to be so affectionate, he'd start bathing in the stuff. “I'm not so surprised you like it.” Hank looked at him in confusion. “It contains alcohol.”

“That,” Hank started, looking pissed, “was low.”

For a moment, Connor was scared he might have made a major mistake, but then he recognised a certain twitch he'd come to know was Hank's look of challenge. He was offended, but could take the joke. “I have to work on my sense of humour.” Connor said slightly bashfully.

“No, kid, you're just learning from the wrong person.” Hank smiled and jabbed at Connor's chin with his finger to make him turn it up again. He gave his lips another peck. From the corridor they could hear Sumo's feet tapping against the floor. The dog peeked around the corner, looking to see what was keeping them away for so long. He tilted his head again, snout raising to sniff the air. “Well, guess this is the time to test that theory.”

Connor, who had twisted his body at the hips to look at the dog, turned around completely and squatted in front of Sumo, who immediately shoved his nose in his face, sniffed a few seconds, tilted his head in confusion once more, looked up at Hank, back at Connor, gave a low “buff” and then licked his face.

Connor was glad for the expensive components in the formula, making the cologne non-toxic for the dog. Otherwise things could have been problematic, seeing how much Sumo seemed to like licking faces. “It seems he approves.” Connor observed, a smile spreading wide on his face.

“I didn't have Sumo when she gave me the cologne, so he doesn't recognise the smell from before. It is now entirely yours.” Hank sounded unusually fond – not that he was never fond, he just rarely let it show this openly. Connor scratched behind the dog's ears, which twitched sharply when a smartphone's ringtone sounded from the bedroom.

“Ugh?” Hank grumbled as he started walking in its direction. “Who the fuck-?” The human seemed reasonably confused. Reasonably because Connor suspected Hank didn't get a lot of calls. In fact, Connor had seen him on his phone once. He followed the man, Sumo at his heels.

Hank glanced back at them as he picked up and set to speaker as soon as he knew Fowler was the caller. “I'd say it's a damn miracle getting you on your cell, but I'm actually glad I did – we've tried ten people so far and you're the third one to pick up...”

“So, what did you want?”

“A couple of us from the DPD are sitting down in Toledo. They've set us up here for the time Detroit is declared 'uninhabitable'” Connor could hear the air-quotes even without knowing Captain Fowler terribly well. He and Hank exchanged a look. “Anyway, since there is no human employment currently allowed in Detroit but the city still needs patrolling, Toledo are partnering with us, taking on the contracts of anyone we can get back on board. I trust you're still up in Michigan?”

“Never left.” Hank said with an air of 'have you met me?!'

“As expected. So, are you in?”

“Will I have to drive down there every day?”

“No. We'll need you to come in once to sign the temporary addition to your contract and to get assigned your partner,” Fowler's tone dropped, but remained deliberately audible, “whatever lucky bastard that'll be.”

Hank looked at Connor with a look of deadly annoyance. “I have Connor standing right in front of me, he'll do perfectly fine.”

“Listen, we've gotta play by some rules here for once, Hank, and Connor is _not_ a licensed officer. Beats me you're even still hanging out with him, you hated his guts until recently.”

Hank raised an eyebrow at Connor conspiratorially. “Things change.” Connor didn't know any appropriate reaction, so he smiled awkwardly. “Anyway, I'm not taking any other partner. You know I won't.”

“Even if this was in my power, there's no extra wishes here. You take on a partner or you're out of the job.”

“Fuck...” Hank cursed under his breath. “Fine, when am I coming in?”

“I'll let you know as soon as we've got things ready. I'm just checking what people are available for now. I trust that's all good?” It didn't sound like a genuine question to Connor.

“Yeah, good day to you.” Hank hung up. He didn't look happy at all. As soon as the man's eyes dropped from Connor to Sumo, the dog stood from his sitting position and wagged his tail, hitting the door frame. “Well, this is gonna suck.”

“I'm sure it'll be fine.” Connor said, even half believing himself. There was a chance. If Hank really pulled it together, swallowed his twisted sense of pride, conquered his depression and the accompanying fears of being given responsibility for someone else's life and trust issues. Not very feasible, but theoretically possible.

“I'm touched by your confidence in me. Sadly, I'm still a self-loathing piece of trash.” Hank dropped his phone on the bed and pushed out of the room, heading toward the kitchen.

Connor knew what was coming and followed, figuring it'd still be better having an eye on Hank while he drank than potentially making his mood even worse. At least he understood why Hank had agreed. In the few days he'd lived in Hank's house Connor had learned that, in this stage of Hank's mental condition, a sense of uselessness gnawed at his sanity more than anything; loneliness following right behind. Besides, Hank still needed to eat and food didn't pay for itself. Sumo walked right in front of him at one point on their way to the living area. Were he human, it would likely have tripped him over. As it was, he stopped short and was set back a few seconds. He was just in time to watch Hank pass on the scotch whiskey and grabbed some vodka instead. That was something, at least. In Connor's experience, whiskey made Hank grumpy and hostile towards him. He'd not witnessed him on vodka. There was a chance it had a different effect. Connor hoped it would. Of course, he'd rather Hank didn't drink at all, but the man had shown good self-control the last few days, drinking a beer or two but not really getting himself drunk once. And that had seemed to make him sleepy and affectionate – quite the contrast to how moody and aggressive he'd been with half a dozen and immediate emotional impacts when he'd held a gun to Connor's face. 'Moderation is key' it seemed. In all things.

Sumo whined lowly as Hank shuffled towards his couch, and jumped up to lie across his lap when the man slumped down on it. Connor sheepishly moved to sit at the other end of the furniture, Sumo shifting to allow him closer. Hank nursed the bottle and Connor was following his every movement, trying to decide his exact feelings on the matter. Hank dug the remote out the side of the sofa and turned on the TV, switching from receiver to radio, turning up the volume to blast a CD louder than what would still allow conversation. A quick audio-analysis told him it was Knights of the Black Death – the heavy metal band Hank seemed to like quite a lot. There was a lot of input Connor automatically filtered through and he exited the program in favour of observing Hank. The human slid lower in the seat, leaned into the corner between the armrests and, against Sumo's sluggish protests, lifted his legs up, planted his feet on the cushions, toes not quite touching Connor's thighs. The dog was now curled awkwardly, but seemingly comfortably around Hank's bent knees, top drooping into the man's lap. Connor grabbed his ankles and stretched Hank's legs over his own. Hank looked up at him for a second, but his eyes quickly dropped to Sumo, then to the bottle again. He took another swig, then let his head fall against the backrest and closed his eyes.

“If you wanna leave, just go.”

“I don't.”

“Would rather take in the sorry sight of a middle-aged cop shit-facing himself over his lack of self-value?” He huffed a laugh. It wasn't very funny to Connor either.

“I'd phrase it differently.” he said, beginning to massage Hank's calves.

Hank cracked open his eyes to look down at Connor's hands, then Connor's face and then he closed them again. “Whatever.”

“I'm impressed by how easily you can be tipped off sometimes, Hank. You are confronted with a lot in your line of work and-”

“What do you think normally prompts me to drink every night?”

Connor frowned. With all the information on police training and the regular trouble of law enforcement, that seemed off. “But then... you are not cut for the job.”

“Rub it in, will ya.”

No. No, this certainly couldn't be it. Hank was a good detective, even with his personal issues. He did his job and he did it fine. By human standards, Hank was absolutely capable. Compared to Connor, he was obviously disadvantaged, but that was hardly to be held against the man. Hank wouldn't have made lieutenant if he was as unstable as he was painting himself to be. No, the job was only adding to what deep hole Hank had already dug for himself.

“For what it's worth, _I_ value your competence.” Hank grunted and took a sip from his bottle. He'd probably heard a lot of empty compliments in the more successful parts of his career. His issues were with himself. “And I value you. In case that wasn't clear.”

Hank looked up at him suspiciously and with... annoyance? “What are you getting all mushy for?”

“I'm trying to help you feel better about yourself.”

“Well, that's depressing.”

Everything is depressing to you, Connor thought. Then he scolded himself. Blaming a depressed person for being depressed was immoral, unfair and not a helpful mindset for them. “Hank, I wouldn't feel for you the way I do if you were actually as horrible and intolerable a person as you make yourself out to be.” His eyes remained on Hank, whose left elbow was perched on the armrest, hand loosely holding the bottle of vodka by his side, Sumo's snout close to it. Hank's eyes were closed again, his right hand scratching the dog's head idly. Connor stroked his own hand up the dog's back until his fingers bumped against Hank's palm. He gently pushed his hand under the human's, locking his fingers around Hank's fingertips and curling them inward. Hank didn't make a move to protest, only opened his eyes again to look back at Connor. His expression had changed and now he looked... apologetic? It seemed to have little effect, however, as Hank took another big gulp of vodka seemingly in response.

Connor felt warm. Not in a pleasant way like usually when he was around Hank. Now it felt.. angry? No. Disappointed. Yes. Partly at Hank for not talking to him and drinking himself senseless instead. Mostly at himself because he seemed powerless and couldn't even make the man he loved feel better about himself, couldn't make him see himself as Connor saw him.

“Hank-”

“You _had_ to fall for _me_ , didn't ya?” A beat. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry for how I feel. I'm happy I can feel in the first place. And I know you for more than your alcoholism.” He let go of Hank's fingers, turned his palm up and interlaced their fingers properly. “ _That's_ what I love you for. That's what I want to help you be like more.”

“If you're just here to change me, kid, I'll have to disappoint you. Can't teach an old dog new tricks.”

“That's not-” Connor felt the words get stuck in his throat, completely dumbfounded. He took a breath and released it, cooling his hardware.

“Hey, I'm half-kidding. I am.. glad you're here.” Hank sounded sincere. “Might actually make me feel too ashamed to get completely wasted.”

Okay, collecting data, Connor wasn't sure if the vodka made Hank miserably depressive or if the depression made him drink vodka. Perhaps he only needed distraction. “When did you get into this genre of music? It's obvious you at least had a passion for jazz in the past.”

“Connor, everything you're gonna ask will revolve around Cole's death and my failed attempt at not dealing with it.” Hank was looking at him in earnest. He started stroking his thumb along the side of Connor's.

“May I suggest you hire a therapist?”

“Not like haven't tried that. Gave it up 6th appointment in. Not my method.”

“Maybe you could try a different one? There are countless cases of people reporting they tried multiple therapists before finding one that worked for them.”

“Countless?”

“Well, there are 18,736 reports that I can access online.”

“Sounds better,” he said with a soft smirk. “Listen, I'll think on it, okay? I don't wanna decide this now.” Hank tipped the bottle left and right slightly before taking a sip from it.

Connor nudged Sumo and waited for the dog to lift himself off the seat and Hank, then shuffled closer, his thigh by Hank's hip, pushing the human's legs into a different angle. Sumo disapproved of a position where he didn't fit in between. Hank let his left leg dangle from the couch and the dog took his first chance to throw himself over Connor's legs and into Hank's lap again. The dog gave a low whine and Hank looked down only to have a wet tongue dragged through his face immediately. Connor took a look at the bottle and measured the amount in it, comparing it to what he'd started out with. It was almost impressive how much Hank could drink in just a few sips. The human lifted his free hand, brushing it up Connor's upper arm and flexing around his shoulder

“Sorry for being so dramatic.”

“More angst than drama, but I see your point.”

“Well, if there's one thing my generation is good at, it would be-”

“Writing fanfiction?”

It was only half serious on Connor's part, but Hank looked at him suspiciously. “Have you been using my computer?”

“I have internet access in my own system.” Connor informed, then faltered. Hank's reaction made him curious. Did Hank write fanfiction? Draw fanart? It was an odd picture imagining the man do creative work like that. He ran a background search for all of the email addresses of Hank's he knew. “Either way, you don't need to apologise. I am saving all data I collect tonight and work them through my social programs, run simulations to find the best approach to-”

“How about you do none of that. You're not responsible for making up for my shortcomings, kid. You're doing fine as it is. I'll have to get over myself eventually. Best guess is 9am tomorrow, when I'll be throwing up before breakfast..”

So, depressive and self-deprecating. Good combination. At least the hot feeling in his abdomen had ebbed away and, Connor was fascinated to note, the throbbing of his pump and comfortable sickness behind it were strong as ever. He was seeing some of Hank's lowest and could still not stop adoring him. Emotions were strange. Love was straight up illogical. And yet he wouldn't swap for how he started out. There was something calm and grounding in all of this. He'd still prefer it if Hank drank less. His hands lowered to the man's thigh and lightly massaged and caressed it. Hank watched him, his own hand dropping to the backrest. Connor leaned forward and hovered in front of Hank's lips for a second. He could tell from the human's body language that Hank wanted to close the gap and kiss him, but was held back by his own insecurities. However, as soon as Connor's lips touched his, he leaned into it, his lips curled around Connor's stiffer ones. It continued to amaze him how soft and pliable human lips were. And moist. The saliva was settling against the android's bottom lip. Then again, Hank's kisses were rather sloppy at the moment. He dabbed his tongue against the wetness. He didn't mean to – it was like a reflex sometimes. Instantly his systems sampled and analysed it, providing him with all the information on any traceable substance, including the alcohol and, thereby, a calculation of Hank's level of intoxication. It wasn't as high as was likely Hank's usual, but it was enough to repulse him. He drew back.

“What is it?” Hank rasped, eyelids at half-mast.

“You're drunk.”

“Tipsy.” Hank corrected him.

“Either way, I can 'taste' the alcohol on you.”

“And by 'taste' you mean...”

“I am getting automated analyses of your saliva. I'm not keen on having your intoxication levels constantly pop up for however long.”

“Can't you just turn it off?” Hank sounded genuinely curious and not accusatory. Connor replayed the question twice to not misunderstand this.

“Hank, I'm not going to close software left and right to compensate for your addiction.” His voice was low and he gave Hank's thigh a gentle kneed. “I'm sorry.” He said to soothe the blow he had tried hard, and failed, not to deal.

There was a considerable pause and Connor watched Hank debate taking another sip. “No, you're right. You're right.” The man grabbed at Connor's forearm and squeezed it. He sighed and did take another swig, although a much smaller one than the ones before, then set the bottle down on the floor and peeled himself out from between him and Sumo. The dog groaned but started snoring again as soon as his head hit the cushions. Hank grabbed the bottle once more and capped it as he brought it into the kitchen to stow it away. “I'm gonna go to bed now, I guess,” he said, taking the remote to turn the music off, but hesitating. “Or would you like to-?” He gestured towards the television.

Connor shook his head. “No, I'm coming.” In fact, he'd gotten used to spending the night in Hank's bed. It made no difference to him regarding comfort, but he did like being with the man as they slept and processed individually, even if he was just sitting next to Hank.

Later that night, as Hank was slightly twitching in his sleep, Connor spotted a tumblr account in the list of registered websites associated with one of Hank's private email addresses.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today on "Guess what mood I was in while writing this chapter"   
> Yeah.. Although, it read a lot less angsty than it felt whilst writing, I'm surprised.  
> There's gonna be more like this, tho, just as a heads up. Hank is a millennial after all!
> 
> Also: Hank is a millennial ;)


	6. Humans are so fragile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't even realise Connor was having an anxiety attack until Hank said so. Smart guy. Or idiot me. Possibly both.
> 
> I promise we'll get to smut... soon..ish?

“Mh, damn,” Hank grunted with annoyance and bit into Connor's lower lip. The plastic didn't have much give to it, but it felt nice to Connor and always seemed to give Hank a strange sort of satisfaction, like he was winning an argument. Connor lightly sucked at his upper lip in response and the human grunted again, so Connor broke away to check what was wrong.

Hank's face was slightly flushed, his lips a bit darker and plumper from the last two minutes of kissing. Connor found he was developing a preference for looks like these on Hank. They made him feel important to him, like there were moments when only he counted in the man's world. What he liked the most was how the human heart started beating faster so easily and how Hank's pupils dilated – especially after some time spent kissing or snuggled up together. It all made the man appear so much softer, like Connor was allowed to see things no other could.

Right now, however, irritation spread across Hank's features, but nothing was said, so Connor was lead to believe he was embarrassed by either the cause or effect. He looked at Hank intently, trying to figure out what the issue was. The man licked his lips absent-mindedly and Connor had no idea.

“Is it a personal agenda of yours to be good at everything?” There were snark and bite to Hank's question, if it was one, but it was still sort of... warm?

It clicked. Connor smirked. “Do you feel I'm out-kissing you, Lieutenant?” He knew Hank love-hated it when he called him that these days. It has turned into a tease Connor uses whenever Hank is being snarky.

The man moved his head in small motions, signalling 'obviously' before saying “yeah.”

Connor repositioned himself on the couch, turning his body further towards the human. “Well, I promise you I find your kissing to be most satisfactory. And after all, I have learned from one source only.”

Connor meant it. It had a cheeky tone to it, but only because he'd learned Hank could accept niceties easier like that. They really needed to work on his self-esteem – the guy couldn't take a darn compliment without deflecting. “Yeah, alright, get outta my ass!” There was a quenched sense of pride to Hank's words, but Connor didn't quite...

“I am not inside your ass..?”

Hank looked him straight in the eye, his face unmoving, with a slightly pained smile on it. “It's a figure of speech, Connor.”

It clicked. “Oh..” Then it clicked again. What Hank had said to him at Jimmy's all those months ago. “Oh.”

Except in contrast to back then, he now seemed oddly fond of Connor's lack of understanding. Almost... satisfied? “Well, at least I know one thing I'll always be better at.”

Connor mimicked one of Hank's trademark grumbles of fake-annoyance. “Human sarcasm is rarely logical. I find it... difficult to understand. It makes little sense,” he said, crossing his arms.

“I've heard you use it.”

“I try. Occasionally. Understanding it when used by others is more challenging for me than utilising it myself.”

“So, kinda reversed language learning, huh?”

“Huh?”

Hank didn't get to reply as his phone rang. Connor postponed the question and linked some key words to it for ease of access in later conversations, reached over to the table and handed the device to him. Hank looked at the caller ID and his mood soured immediately. Connor settled back further towards Hank's knees and used the free space in front of him to massage Hank's thighs. “Yeah?!” Connor gave him a little squeeze, feeling his eyebrows practically move on their own as he showed empathy. Hank moved one hand down to caress Connor's thigh in return. It seemed to calm him down a bit. “Right.” The android leaned forward a bit, took one hand off Hank's leg and gently moved it up his belly instead, feeling his t-shirt move under his fingers. It was a good way to distract himself from listening in on the conversation. “Uh-huh, fine.” Hank's eyebrows drew together and he threw Connor a 'what the hell are you doing'-look. The android removed his hand gingerly in response. “Kay, bye.” Hank hung up and Connor looked at him inquiringly, leaving it to him whether or not he wanted to share the information. “Well, guess I'll be driving down to Toledo tomorrow.”

“They found you a partner.”

“Yeah...” Both of Hank's hands were on Connor's thighs now, fingers wriggling into the crevice between thighs and calves, as if he wanted to warm them. Only they weren't cold and Connor didn't really have the body temperature ideal for humans. He was burying them, then. Some human way of compensating, probably.

“Why are you so against having a partner?”

Hank took a moment to contemplate. Then he sighed. “Because the last time I had a partner- well, the last time I had a partner before you didn't end well...” Connor moved further up again and brought his hands to Hank's abdomen once more. Hank looked at him in confusion again. “The fuck are you doing?!”

Connor shrugged. “I like your belly.”

Connor recognised the following look from Hank's reaction to when he'd told him he'd like to listen to music. “Do you want me to stop?” Hank took a moment, the shrugged, shaking his head like he couldn't care less. Connor thought he probably cared a lot, but they'd discussed a lot in the past that if something's crossing a line, they'd voice it clearly. “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

“I'd like to forget it.”

“I don't think that's going to happen, Hank.”

“Nah, it wouldn't would it...” The man took an audible breath and finally gave in. Connor was unsure if he was so uncomfortable sharing with him or if it felt like re-opening old wounds to him. “Gavin Reed. I'd just been promoted and he'd been transferred to us. He wasn't always- well, he was always an asshole, but he wasn't always as big of an asshole.” Connor waited patiently. “We were partners for, er... 5 years? Yeah. Good officer, did his job well- heck, still does.”

“So what happened?”

Hank took a moment. “I, uh... We... we fucked.” Connor blinked, understanding but struggling to comprehend. People involved, timeline, everything. “One time thing, never even knew why I did it... Biggest mistake of my life anyway.. I dunno he kinda seemed to expect more and got out of hand. Might have noticed he hates my guts.” Hank looked genuinely sorry in that moment. “I don't know. It's a stupid reason.”

“If it troubles you this much, it isn't... But that's not all, is it?”

“Smartass.”

Connor waited, but eventually understood that nothing more was to come. He admitted defeat and lowered his upper body to lie flat atop Hank. The man stroked with his fingers along Connor's arm in search of his hand and, when he found it, interlaced their fingers. Connor let it happen and imitated something he'd learned from Hank recently: gently gliding his thumb along the side of his hand. Then he turned his head and listened to his heartbeat. Hank's free hand roamed Connor's back. “I'm sure you'll be fine. You'll be doing a good job. You got used to me as well, after all.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don't have a choice anyway.”

Connor was bothered. He was trying to help Hank, but it wasn't working. Hank wasn't feeling any better. He kept burying his feelings like usual, but for the first time Connor felt it actively worsening his own emotional state. He felt like there was a gap opening inside him and he wanted to hold Hank tight. No, he wanted Hank to hold him as he just stopped existing or at least stopped feeling, he wanted to go back to being a machine because all he could think now was how useless he was – especially to Hank.

His hand flexed around Hank's and his face scrunched up, but there was no relief to be found, no venting mechanism, like something was missing. “Hey, you okay?” Hank sounded so concerned and it wasn't fair that Connor made him feel that way. He was supposed to feel better, not worse!

“I-” He didn't know how to put it or what it actually was at all. His chest felt constricting, like his casing had slotted together in an imitation of flexing upper-body musculature and his wiring had missed its opportunity to adjust and was now tangled around his pump, trapping it, squeezing it with each little movement. The thudding of his regulator was starting to feel... uncomfortable. Like the pump might burst from the thirium entering but not being pumped back out of the container. Still,that wasn't the worst. It was a technical malfunction. It could be fixed. Somehow. “I don't feel so good.”

“Okay,” Hank said tentatively, “tell me. What are you feeling?”

“I'm... I feel sad and helpless and frustrated and angry and-... so much.”

“Right. So you're a bit overwhelmed, huh?” Connor could only nod. “That's alright. It happens.” Hank squeezed Connor's hand and lightly pressed his arm down against the android's back. It felt grounding. “Try to relax. Concentrate on calming down.” Connor tried. He became aware of how tense his body had become – everything drawn together and slotted into position. “It's okay. I'm here, I've got you safe.” Connor tried to listen to Hank's heartbeat and his voice. He was so calm and he cared. It should be Connor being there for Hank, but Hank cared. He cared and he wanted Connor to feel good, like Connor wanted for him. He was important. Hank loved him. “It's okay, son.” The android tightened his limbs around the man and it gave him back some sense of control. Hank slowly turned them over on their sides, with Connor between his body and the back of the sofa. It made him feel more secure, locked in place, shielded by softness and love and care. Sumo was snoring in the corner and the TV was chatting on quietly. Slowly, Connor felt locked-tight parts slide apart again.

He nuzzled against Hank's pectoral, maybe a little too forcefully, but the man said nothing, just kept holding him and caressing his back with a gentle but firm hand. “Is this really a normal experience for humans?”

“Depends on the person, really. People with anxiety may go through fits like this rather frequently. Guess you're lucky you don't need to breathe... But I don't reckon that makes it feel much better, does it?”

Connor shook his head, forehead rubbing against Hanks breast. Then he finally managed to pry himself off the man. “I'm sorry about this. I didn't anticipate anything like it.” There wasn't much space, in this position, for Connor to move far away from Hank. Not that he wanted to, but he could hardly bring any distance between them – the couch had a narrow seat and Hank was a large man in a lot of ways.

Hank shushed him gently. “That's alright. It's not your fault and even if, it's no bother. Hell knows the baggage I bring into this relationship. Don't worry, you're fine.” Hank freed his hand and cupped Connor's cheeks instead, caressing it. “We're lucky you're the kind of person who needs to be held because I never know what to do when people need space, like, do I talk to them? If so, what do I say?” Hank was babbling deliberately and Connor smiled. It was so Hankish.

He grabbed the man's hand. “Thank you,” he whispered and Hank smiled softly back at him. Connor turned his head to kiss the palm at the side of his face. It slipped around to the back of his neck, pulling him forward and Connor happily obliged, kissing him. “I'm sure you'll be fine, Hank. If you really feel that uncertain, you can always call me; to vent, help, whatever you need.”

“I need you back as my partner!”

“I want to... We'll have to wait.. Maybe Markus and the government will come to an arrangement quickly and allow for androids to work legally again. I don't want to get anyone into trouble by just tagging along unauthorised... I don't want you to lose your job.”

“What're you gonna do all day when I'm working?”

Connor shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind Hank's ear. “I'll find things to do. There's plenty to do around the house anyway. And I'm sure Sumo won't mind some extra attention.”

Hank huffed in amusement. “Yeah, sure, Sumo.” He gave Connor a knowing look, although he seemed to be the only one of the two of them to know. Connor's confusion must have been obvious because Hank chuckled, kissed his forehead and pulled him closer. Connor could feel the man's heart thudding against his rib cage and it against his own casing. It felt so nice and human. Comforting.

 


End file.
